Triumph's Lament
by Fate8
Summary: The forgotten hero has a talk about his past and his future course. Reviews always appreciated!


"It wasn't supposed to be this way."

I looked across the table at the man sitting on the opposite side of the booth. We were in the back of a smoky, dark bar located the bowels of Metropolis. My companion was a tired looking man with pale thinning hair and a noticeable spread of crow's feet around a pair of watery blue eyes. He was slightly hunched forward, and his hands were clasped around a half-finished scotch and water. I stared down into my own rum and coke, and lightly swirled the glass with my hand. The man waited patiently, almost expectantly, for me to continue.

"That first time," I said, recalling memories of over a decade ago, "it was so glorious. We came together in order to save the world. A group of heroes dedicated to protecting all of humanity from threats against which there was no conventional defense." I knocked back a slug of my drink, feeling the alcohol burn down my throat. "We even had a snappy name, one that harkened back to an earlier age, but also let people know that the torch had been passed to a new generation. We called ourselves the Justice League."

"So, what went wrong?" asked the man. "On that first mission?"

"We were so young and inexperienced," I sighed. "None of us had ever faced a situation like that before. It was bigger and more dangerous than any of us imagined. I suppose we were a bit overconfident, too. Imagine the sheer power present in a group which included Green Lantern, Flash, Wonder Woman, the Martian Manhunter, Aquaman, and me." I took another sip of rum, which gave me time to collect my thoughts. "We miscalculated. I managed to save the rest of the League, more by luck than any amount of skill. I'm still proud of that, by the way. But I didn't make it out. I was trapped like an insect in amber."

"What was it like, inside that place I mean?"

"I gotta tell you, Tom, I don't remember too much. Being caught in an inter-dimensional rift is like being stuck inside an isolation chamber. Your senses don't really work because there is nothing to act on them. This particular rift was extra special because it had time distortion properties. I guess it was like being in suspended animation."

Tom swallowed hard, his thoughts like an open book, and I wasn't even telepathic, strictly speaking. I had invited him here, although we had never met before this very day. He was reluctant, to say the least, until I told him who I was. Old habits die hard, I guess, and Tom just couldn't resist. Listening to people with problems used to be his job. Tom Longacre was once a member of Hero for Hire, an outfit of metas that responded to phoned in emergencies. Kind of like a superhero 9-1-1. Tom was known as "Stretch", and rather obviously could stretch and reshape his body anyway he pleased. He was able to do this by drinking large quantities of Gingold, which was made famous by another hero, but Tom was around long before Ralph Dibny. Despite his best intentions, Tom never got over the hump, and soon Elongated Man and Plastic Man had stolen his thunder. "Stretch" faded away into the background. His marriage fell apart, and he was soon down to retrieving kittens from trees and fishing wedding rings out of sewers. Tom had eventually gotten fed up and quit the superhero business for good. I know this because information is easy to find for those who have a talent for it.

"How did you get out?"

"I wish I could say it was something I did, but I can't. Time did not pass inside the rift, and although I tried to escape, it may be that the rift just spit me out. It's one of those mysteries of the universe," I shrugged.

"Anyway, after I made my way back, I found that the world had moved on, and due to the nature of my accident, no one remembered me, not even my old teammates." I fought down a lump of sadness mixed with a dose of bitterness that threatened to rise up my throat and spill over my lips. I had already worked through this, and there was no sense going back over lost territory.

"I remember something about that," said Tom. "None of them believed your story. There seemed to be a lot of resentment among the superhero community toward you."

"Yeah, here I was rightly claiming that I should have been on the A-list, right up there with Superman, and they all looked down on me like I was nothing," I said. "The League insisted that I prove myself, that I belonged with the elite." I heard my voice start to rise, and I took a moment to calm myself. What was done, is done, and nothing could change that fact.

"But while your old teammates had gained a lot of experience in those years in which you were missing, you were still a rookie, as it were."

"It was a difficult adjustment to make," I admitted. "I was the leader of the League on that first fateful mission, but when I returned, the others had grown into icons, while I was unknown. Barry was dead, and Hal too, at the time, but their successors had carried on their legacy." Legacy, I thought. The word felt like ash on my tongue. My own legacy had been aborted long ago. "They **allowed** me to join the Justice League Task Force, with newbies being trained to become better heroes. The crazy thing is, I really liked Ray and Gypsy. L-Ron was L-Ron, and J'onn was appointed to be our mentor." The final word dripped off my tongue like acid, and I took another drink to wash the taste away.

"How did you and J'onn get along?"

"There was some friction," I said. "My memories of him were of an alien who was just revealing himself to human society. He had obviously outgrown that, but it was no reason to treat me like a kid."

"You were once peers, but no longer."

"Something like that," I said with a small frown. "I won't deny that my time with the JLTF wasn't exciting, because it was, and we had some good times, but I always had this itch, you know? I was born to be a leader, and I couldn't be one while I was with the task force."

"So, what happened?"

"Oh, eventually we broke up, like all super-teams seem to do, sooner or later," I said. "I decided to strike out on my own, and that is when my life really started to suck."

Tom arched his eyebrow, reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He paused, as if asking my permission. I nodded slightly, and waited while he lit up and deeply inhaled. "Tell me about it, Will," he said.

"Well, to make a long story short, Tom, I found out the hard way that being a superhero doesn't pay very well." Tom snorted in sympathy. "Without the financial backing of the League, and not being one of the big guns in the eyes of the public, my services were not much in demand. What money I had never seemed to last. I found a beautiful girl who was in love with being with a superhero, but she left me when the bank foreclosed on our house."

"They don't know how it is for those of us without the name and recognition," said Tom. "It can be a rough life."

"Exactly," I said. "So, I decided that I needed to make people notice me, and that meant taking on a major villain. Unfortunately, I picked the wrong one."

"Who?"

"Amazo," I said. Tom sucked in his breath. The very name sent shivers through anyone with a basic understanding of Dr. T.O. Morrow's greatest invention. "I had never faced it before, and did not realize what that thing was capable of doing. It stole my powers. I was as normal as you are now. Usually, when Amazo does that to a person, their powers eventually come back. Mine didn't."

"Broke and powerless," said Tom as he snubbed out his cigarette. "That's rough."

"Wait," I said. "It gets better. I met a demon named Ner-"

"I'm sorry," interrupted Tom. "Did you say a demon?"

"Yes, one named Neron. A lying trickster of a demon, who promised to give me back those missing years so I could take my rightful place among the pantheon of heroes."

"I take it all did not go according to plan?"

"I learned that dealing with demons is bad business," I said. "They love to stick to the letter of an agreement while gleefully ignoring the intent."

"Then what happened?"

"After that, I hit rock bottom," I said. "I was down to selling some junk I had acquired during my time in the JLTF to some criminals who though it would be great fun to put a bullet in my brain. I was as good as dead, and that was when I head the voice."

"Voice? A telepath?"

I chuckled darkly. "No, not a telepath," I said. "A magic genie." The look that crossed Tom's face was so comical, I almost grinned. "To be more specific, a 5th Dimension imp."

"And what did the voice say?"

"It offered to restore me to glory. All I had to do was say it's name and grant it freedom."

"You said it's name," said Tom flatly.

"I said it's name," I confirmed. "Lkz, that was it's name by the way, killed the guys who were about to waste me, and gave me back my powers, with a twist. I always had control over the electromagnetic spectrum, but when Lkz reawakened my metagenes, the jumpstart must have raised me to full potential, because I was more powerful than ever. Do you realize what complete mastery over the electromagnetic spectrum means, Tom?"

"I guess not."

"You mention those kinds of powers to most people and they automatically think of nut jobs like Dr. Polaris or Magenta, who can levitate and toss cars around. That's nothing compared to what I am capable of doing. I can read radio waves. Any kind of communication like television, mobile phones, wireless networks, amateur radio, satellite transmissions, all of these are as easy for me to read as a neon sign is for you. How do you think I tracked you down, Tom?" To his credit he looked uncomfortable at the suggestion.

"I have absolute control over microwaves, terahertz radiation, infrared, visible light, ultra violet radiation, x-rays and gamma rays," I continued. "That's just a start. Combine that with magnetic field manipulation, and there's not much I can't do."

"Impressive," said Tom. "If you became so powerful, why haven't I seen you on the news or something?"

"The genie," I replied. "See, it turns out that imp was as bad as Neron. While it did give me back the powers, it also brought out some of my more negative emotions, like anger, envy, resentment, those kinds of things. I ended up trying to fight the Justice League." Tom just sat there, his mouth slightly agape. "I fought them to a standstill. We might have reached some sort of truce, but then the Spectre showed up."

"I'm utterly fascinated by this story," said Tom. "Super villains, a magic genie, the Justice League and the Spectre?"

"Ain't it a hoot? Anyway, the Spectre decided to mete out some divine justice with yours truly as the target. He turned me into an ice sculpture. He was set to smash me to bits when the angel Zauriel intervened on my behalf."

"So, the Spectre unfroze you or what?"

"No, He left me whole and frozen. The League, in their infinite mercy, put me on display in a case inside their trophy room on the moon. Do you want to know the worst part, Tom?"

"What?"

"I was aware the entire time." I rubbed my eyes, tiredly, the memories pouring unbidden into my mind. "I saw it all, but I was unable to move or communicate . The League, my former teammates and friends, did nothing to check and see if I was still alive. They just threw me in the trophy case. Every day, I was completely aware of everything that was going on, and what had happened to me."

"That's terrible." said Tom. "How did you escape?"

"The Injustice Gang blew up the Watchtower. I watched Prometheus plant the bombs. He walked right past me. When it went up in smoke and flame, the case I was in shattered, and the fire thawed the ice just enough for me to break out. I gathered up some of the escaping oxygen in a force field, and made my way back to Earth."

"I half expected them to come after me, or at least launch an investigation into my whereabouts," I said. "But there was nothing." I fell silent for a moment. After all this time, it still hurt. "It's a horrible thing to be forgotten, Tom. It happened to me twice."

Tom gave me a bit of silence, out of respect for my pain and emotional state. I appreciated it. Eventually, he asked, "What have you been doing since then?"

"I've been keeping a very low profile," I said. "Honing my powers. Testing myself, and trying to figure out where to go from here. Do you know, Tom, that at the end of the last Crisis, I was disappointed when the world did not end?"

"I know you've gotten some really bad breaks, Will, but you can't give in to nihilism. You have a lot to offer the world."

"Perhaps," I said. "In any case, I've figured out what my next step is going to be."

Tom made a waving motion with his hand. "Spill it," he said.

"They won't have the luxury of forgetting Triumph again," I said, my voice taking a hard edge. "I am going to reshape the world, and those who don't join me will be torn apart. It is long past time I took my rightful place, and whoever stands against me will suffer the consequences."

Tom looked at me with dawning comprehension. "You can't be serious, Will," he said. "I can't let you do that. I'll have to tell someone."

"Oh, Tom," I said softly. "You won't be doing anything. I just wanted someone to talk to, and I thought you might understand. Let me ask you one final question. Do you know how much iron is present in the human blood stream?" Tom of course, could not answer. "More than enough for me to control the flow of blood to your brain. Right now, you are suffering a major stroke." Tom was locked in place, his body unable to move as his mind began to shut down. A single drop of blood dripped from his nose, and splashed onto the counter. I watched his eyes roll back in their sockets and then caught his head before it smacked into the hard wood of the table. I left him there, in the back of the bar, as if he were sleeping. I walked out of the front door, and into the early evening light, ready to do what I had to do.

**DA END?**


End file.
